


born in a house with the television always on

by elfiepike



Category: Yamada Tarou Monogatari | The Story of Yamada Taro (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Fingering, Intergenerational Sex, M/M, Maids, Pantyhose, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 01:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfiepike/pseuds/elfiepike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isogai knows how Taro can get some extra cash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	born in a house with the television always on

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SORRY. this is set nebulously during the time when taro was a maid for mimura's family, but is obviously also wild fantasy practically divergent from the show itself. this is unbeta'd, but thanks to kinoface to fact-checking!
> 
> A NOTE ON THE TAGS: i don't consider this to be rape, but because it is toeing that line of "does the character think he can say no" (and also, to be frank, because the tone of this is decidedly opposed to the tone of the show), i've decided to go for the safer bet and post it with that warning. other things: rimming, defloration kink, a touch of voyeurism? i don't know, okay, CONSIDER YOURSELF INADEQUATELY WARNED.

When Taro is fully dressed, from the headband atop his wig down to the perfectly-aligned seams of his pantyhose, Isogai pulls Taro aside, out of Mimura's view, and tells him that the master loves maids. "I can arrange it so the young master won't ever know," Isogai says, and reveals that the master has been known to pay upwards of two hundred thousand yen for a single session as long as it meets...certain requirements. Taro nods for him to go on, never one to refuse outright an offer for money, and Isogai lists out the demands: anal, bareback, and in uniform.

"Of course," Isogai says while Taro considers this, "the master never does this with the regular maids. He probably assumes that you are being brought in for this purpose specifically."

Taro thinks about how many croquettes that would buy, about how long it would take even _his_ mother to spend it, about how many more hours he could spend actually with his siblings and not just working for their benefit--and agrees, his hands trembling slightly as he ignores the implications of what he's agreeing to.

 

Later, the master of the house has him face down, his wig pinned on tightly even as the curls fall into his face and stick to his sweat, his skirt pushed up over his hips and the master caressing his ass through the pantyhose. "No panties, I see," the master says, his voice rough with age and satisfaction. "But then, there isn't much point, is there, in trying to hide _this_ ," he says, holding onto Taro's cock through the material.

(Truthfully, Taro just hadn't thought to wear them. He didn't want to get the ones Mimura provided dirty, whereas he figured the pantyhose was probably cheaper.)

The master rubs him into hardness; Taro bites his lip to keep from crying out. "I don't mind at all," the master says; Taro hears the snip of the pruning shears and feels the opening made in the back of his pantyhose, and then the master is ripping it wider and leaning in to lick at Taro's hole. "Maids, you always taste so fresh," the master says.

It's so dirty, and the attention is so clearly for the master's own pleasure--but Taro can't pretend it doesn't have an effect on him. He closes his eyes tighter, and gets lost in it.

Finally, the master sits back again. Taro takes a deep, shuddering breath through his nose, then another. Over the sound of his racing heartbeat, he can hear the master shifting behind him, the folds of his robe ( _He's taking it off_ , Taro thinks, _so that he can have sex with me_.), something that might be a jar opening. He chances a glance over his shoulder, where the master is still mostly clothed, the robe just open a bit, the lines of age in his face lending solemnity to the pleased twist of his mouth.

"Have you done this before, little maid?" the master asks, and then Taro has to turn away again when he feels the master's fingers running slickly between the cleft of his cheeks, across his hole.

"No, Master," Taro gulps out, voice shaky and breaking off in a gasp when the master pushes the tip of one finger inside of him. It can't even be that much, he thinks, but it's--it's--

"Isogai neglected to mention you were a _virgin_ ," the master says, and slowly works his finger in further.

Taro spreads his legs apart in a kind of useless self-defense, as all it does is make him more open for the master. He can no longer remember quite why he is doing this--something about croquettes?--because all he can feel is that finger, working him open.

"Relax, little maid," the master says, "relax for me. Trust me when I say it will be easier for you if you relax."

He tries, oh god does he try, but then the master does something inside him that just--

He tucks his face in his elbow but still can't completely stop the sound from coming out, part moan, part wail, and his shoulders get even closer to the floor. 

The master rolls Taro's balls in his hand, then feels his cock again where it is still tucked up between his skin and the pantyhose. "Yes, little maid, you _are_ getting close, aren't you." He leans over Taro's back, pressing his weight against him, nosing underneath the wig to reach the skin of Taro's neck. He sighs, his breath hot on Taro's skin, then takes his finger out and Taro melts into the floor.

Taro has no idea how much time has passed. He just needs to catch his breath, he just needs--

"Oh little maid," the master says into Taro's ear, "we're nowhere close to done."

The master's fingers return to his hole, pressing almost delicately around the edges, smoothing their excess lubricant along the crease of Taro's cheeks, and Taro belatedly realizes that maybe he should have gotten Isogai to specify exactly what all those words meant, on the master's list.

Two fingers, two fingers are somehow that much more than one. He doesn't bother trying to hide it this time when he moans.

"Yes, little maid," the master says, "like that."

 

From just outside the door, Mimura listens on, listens and grows hard and imagines.


End file.
